


What Friends Are For

by MaryPSue



Series: Reincarnation Blues [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beating your boyfriend's previous incarnation as a power-hungry demon when it takes over his body and tries to destroy the world doesn't come without a few scars, as Mira finds out. Luckily, she and Ian both have good friends to help them through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this one will probably make absolutely no sense if you haven't read [Reincarnation Blues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3621903), as this is pretty much a direct sequel.

The sound of a sharp rap on the apartment door broke Ian out of his stupor. He grabbed the remote, stabbing vaguely at the buttons as the light from the television flickered mutely over the living room floor. When had it gotten so dark?

He must have found the right button, because the prerecorded laugh track froze along with the action. Fake smiles strained across virtual actors’ faces for an instant before Ian switched to the channel for the peephole, his heart hammering like a fist beating against his ribcage from inside. The world that had faded to a dull background roar suddenly seemed sharp-edged and too full of shadows. It wasn’t - but it  _could_  be - he still had - dreams, fragments - and if Alcor had missed something in  _his_  head, then couldn’t somone else’s have been missed altogether, couldn’t someone else have put the pieces together and realised - 

But it wasn’t a government agent whose unimpressed face stared back at Ian from the peephole camera feed. A jolt tore through him, like a full body scare chord, when Rosa pursed her lips and said directly into the camera, “Beale?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ian snapped, before realising she couldn’t hear him.

Rosa went on talking, her face distorted slightly by the fishbowl lens. “Mira says you ain't been takin’ your meds.”

“Go away,” Ian mumbled, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping both arms around them. He jabbed angrily at the remote again, and the sitcom resumed, the prerecorded laughter managing to sound forced and overloud.

There was another rap on the door, and Ian flinched at the muffled shout from outside. “Beale! I’ll stand on this doorstep all night if I have to!”

“Go away, go away, go  _away_ ,” Ian breathed, drumming his fingers against his leg, slowly starting to realise he was tapping them in time with Rosa’s knocks. The night seemed to seep in all around, the laughter staccato gunfire from the television, and it was too cold and his leg jittered against the couch cushions and the knocking went on and on and  _on_  -

Ian bounced up to his feet, nearly sprinting into the entryway and throwing open the door before Rosa’s fist could fall again. She took a step back, eyes widening at the sight of him, slowly lowering her raised arm. 

“Good...good to see ya,” Rosa said, the shout bleeding out of her voice. Her eyes didn’t leave Ian’s face as she took a slow step forward.

“Get in here,” Ian said, reaching out to grab her wrist as he looked down the hall, for what he wasn’t sure. More reaching shadows?

Rosa winced, quickly twisting it into a smile, but Ian let go of her wrist instantly. “Sorry. Just - come in. If you’re coming in.”

Rosa didn’t poke fun at his paranoia, and for the first time, Ian started to wonder if she didn’t have a reason to be worried about him. The thought caterpillared down his neck, and he spared the hallway an extra suspicious glance before shutting the door and shooting the lock. He paused a moment to lean against the fake wood panelling, feeling like he’d just run a hundred-yard dash instead of opened his apartment door for a friend, and caught his breath before he turned to face Rosa again.

“Jesus, Beale, ya look like hell chewed you up and shat you out,” she said, and Ian shook his head sharply, brushing past her and into the living room where the terrible laughter was still spilling into the emptiness.

“Stop calling me that,” he said quietly towards the TV set as he muted it. The actors’ movements seemed somehow grotesque, almost sinister in their silence. The light scattering across the room from the screen was blue and cold.

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind him, and then Rosa breathed, “Shit. Right. I - sorry.”

“ ‘s fine,” Ian said, or thought he said, curling his fingers into the sleeve of his flannel shirt, digging in until he could feel the dull pressure of his fingernails biting through the fabric, into his arm. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“No way you’re running me off that easy,” Rosa said sternly, and though she was standing behind Ian (and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck), he knew she was squaring her hands against her hips, could picture every line of her petulant frown. “Mira’s beside herself, ya know. It took too much work to get her outta this place even for one night.” She wrinkled her nose, making a face that Ian caught a glimpse of in the reflection from the window looking out over the dark alley. “When’s the last time you had a bath?”

“She’s safer,” Ian said, dully, ignoring the insult. “With -” There was a ragged hole, a gap where there should have been a name, and for a moment Ian was fallingfallingfalling before he snagged a loose end of memory and thumped to a breathless halt. “- Sun-Mi. Thank you both.”

“She’s coming back in the morning, ya dope,” Rosa said, and then, sweet as cough syrup, “Ya know she said you were off your meds.”

Ian clutched at his arms, drawing in on himself. 

“I didn’t mean to. I just - I - I was taking them when I got up every morning.”

Rosa’s reflection in the dark window (and when had it got so dark? When had the dark come creeping in to surround and isolate every cold light?) blew an exasperated breath out over her top lip. “And when’s the last time you actually went to bed?”

Ian tried to remember, and couldn’t.

“And you call me a dummy,” Rosa said fondly. She took a few steps closer, circling wide so Ian could see her approach, and held out a hand. She waited until he gave her a jerky nod before resting it gently on his shoulder. “How many times are we gonna have this conversation,” she sighed, giving his shoulder a soft pat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ian said, surprised at how small his own voice sounded. “He could come back -”

"Nobody's gonna,” Rosa said, her hand warm and reassuringly weighty on Ian’s shoulder. He realised, in a detached way, that he was shivering. “I’m betting you haven’t been out to get your prescription refilled, either. Okay. What’s gonna happen is  _you_  are gonna go take a shower, because ya stink. I will call the pharmacy, and get ya some clean pyjamas. And then you’re gonna have something to eat and go to bed.”

Ian shook his head, and Rosa shot him her scariest glare. “Ian Beale.”

“Rosa Darling,” Ian shot back, and managed, with some effort, to crack a grin. “You don’t have to do this. I’m. I’m handling it. Everything is under control.”

Rosa gripped Ian’s other shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. “Ian, you’re watchin' sitcoms.”

Ian tried to look away. “Plenty of people watch -”

“You’re not ‘plenty of people’. And I know you only turn on mindless laugh-track shit when ya can’t stop thinkin’. So. You’re gonna take a shower. There’ll be fresh PJs and some soup waitin’ when ya get out.”

“I can’t,” Ian said, or started to say, but choked on the words. Rosa’s hands on his shoulders were like an anchor, but suddenly he was not a boat but a swimmer. “Can’t,” he managed. “I - the dreams - they came here -”

“I know, hon,” Rosa said, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Ian tore himself away, stepping back when she tried to follow, his feet numbly starting to pace without any input from his brain.

“No. You don’t. They. They came  _into_  my  _apartment_  and I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop them they just ripped my whole life apart and didn’t even blink and he could come back and I couldn’t  _stop_  them, any of them, and  _what if she’d been here_  and I couldn’t - I can’t -”

“ _Ian_ ,” Rosa said, forcefully, startling Ian into looking back up at her. “They are not coming back. But Mira is. Tomorrow morning. You’re gonna want to be feeling better for her, right?”

Ian didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, tongue thick in his mouth, heart wedged high in his ribcage and cutting off his breath. Mira couldn’t be here, couldn’t be here where it wasn’t safe and he couldn’t keep her safe -  

“She’s scared, honey,” Rosa said carefully, and Ian dimly realised she was using the same kind of voice she used around skittish horses. “Scared for you. You’re freaking her out, Be- Ian. She doesn’t know how to help you. And you’re not the only one who’s been through hell.”

Ian stopped mid-pace, his heart plummeting like an elevator with its cable cut.

“I -” he started, but Rosa held up one finger, shushing him. 

“The best thing you can do for her right now - for all of us - is go and take a damn shower.”

...

"Here's your tea, and here's my tea, and heeeeere's the popcorn." Sun-mi set the bowl down on the low table in front of Mira, and then sat back on the couch with one leg tucked under her. "I think we've got everything we need. Is there anything else you want?"

Mira shook her head, focusing on the shivering reflections of the soft globe lights strung around the room in the surface of her tea instead of Sun-mi's face.

“Great! Then we’re all set for a rousing round of...” Sun-mi reached under the coffee table and pulled out a cardboard box with a bright logo splashed across the front, holding it up with a hopeful smile. “Babble! The game of wordplay and wit!”

Mira let out a sigh she hadn’t meant to let escape, and Sun-mi tossed the box aside, her hopeful smile turning down a few notches into something more understanding. “I invited you over here to get your mind off things, not to make you worry more.”

“I know, I - thank you,” Mira said, trying to muster up a smile of her own. Sun-mi rolled her eyes, and leaned forward, putting a hand on Mira’s knee as she fixed her with a knowing look.

“You are really bad at faking smiles.”

Mira bit back a surprised laugh, and Sun-mi nodded, giving her knee a pat before letting go and sitting back. “You’re clearly not going to relax and take a break.”

Mira shrugged, grabbing the end of her braid and twisting it between her fingers. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. But I should be there.”

“See, this is why we had to get you out of that apartment.” Sun-mi shook her head, letting out a short breath. “It’s  _okay_ , Mira. Rosa’s there. She’s known him, what, forever? She knows how to handle this.”

Mira picked at the black band holding her braid in place, flicking the star-shaped baubles attached to it. “I - I can handle -”

Sun-mi held up a hand, palm out and her index finger raised. “Ah. Nope. Even I can tell you’re exhausted, so don’t go telling me you’re fine and you can handle it because we both know that’s the worst story you’ve ever told.”

“But I don’t - I’m not -” Mira dropped the braid she’d been fiddling with, clenching both hands into fists. "My boyfriend has a mental illness. This isn’t his fault, and it shouldn’t be up to him to make  _me_  feel better when he’s the one who’s hurting. And if I can't handle it when he's actually acting like somebody with a mental illness, then maybe we shouldn't -”

Sun-mi’s voice was flat and intense when she said, “Did he tell you that? Because I know I said I thought there was something creepy about him, but that is just -”

“No! No, hell no, he would never -” Mira shook her head. “No. Ian would probably drop dead if he ever heard me say that. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“Oh my freaking stars.” Sun-mi grabbed the popcorn bowl from the table, pushing it into Mira’s lap. “Here, eat something and listen to me for five seconds. You  _both_  just went through a major traumatic experience. I’m still shaken up about it and I wasn’t even there.” 

“But - I didn’t get hurt, I wasn’t - it wasn’t the same.” Mira had never seen anything look less appetizing than the bowl of popcorn in her lap. “And I - my brain isn’t fighting me. I’m an adult, I can take care of myself. It’d be selfish to -”

“Mira.”

Mira looked up, to see that the smile had dropped entirely off of Sun-mi’s face, replaced by a serious, thoughtful stare. “Ian is not the only one who’s hurting, and you’re not the only one who can support him.” She glanced briefly away, and turned back with the kind of smile Mira had seen on her older sister’s face when Mira had borrowed her jet skates without asking and skinned her knee. “And actually, if you keep running yourself into the ground trying to, you won’t be able to help him at all. I know you think you have to save the whole world, that’s sort of why we’re friends. And I know it’s not an easy pill to swallow. But it doesn’t always have to be you.”

Mira shook her head, feeling the weight of the baubles attached to her elastics whipping her braid against her shoulders. “I should be there.”

Sun-mi let out an exasperated sigh, and leaned over, putting a hand on Mira’s shoulder. Mira looked up, meeting her eyes as she said, “You don’t always have to be the big damn hero. Let somebody else take care of things for once, okay? And let somebody else take care of you _.”_

Mira took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “You’re not gonna stop talking until I agree, are you.”

“Not a chance,” Sun-mi agreed cheerfully.

“Fine.” Mira glanced over at the coffee table and asked, “Do we have to play board games, though?”

“No, we can do anything you feel like,” Sun-mi said, giving Mira’s shoulder one reassuring squeeze before she let go and sat back again. “What  _do_  you feel like doing?”

 _Nothing_ , Mira felt like saying.  _Sitting here and watching your lights for five hours. Going home and making sure nothing’s happened to Ian, nothing’s happened to_ Rosa _, making sure I don’t come home to an apartment full of blood or an apartment that’s been blown into oblivion or, blood and fire, an apartment that’s just empty again -_

She managed a smile, and asked, instead, “That depends. What’s your makeup collection like?”

...

The shower was too close and there were too many shadows in it, but Ian had hoped the hot water would beat away some of the numb, distant cold that weighed down his limbs and the repetitive pounding of the water would drive out some of the circling thoughts, just for a little while. He couldn't stay too long - Rosa was alone in the kitchen, the lock on the bathroom door wouldn't stop anyone for long, the sound of the running water would drown out footsteps - and under the jets from the showerhead, feeling the near-scalding heat of the water beating against his skin but not feeling the warmth sink in at all, his hands seemed like they belonged to a stranger -

Ian slammed the knob for the water to 'off' so hard and fast he was a little surprised it didn't come off in his hand.

Rosa knocked on the door a few minutes or a few hours later, Ian couldn't tell which. She pushed the door open when he didn't respond, and even though Ian could hear her voice on the other side of the door, he still jerked back when he saw it start to ease open. "B- Ian? You better be decent, 'cause I'm comin' in."

She stopped cold when she saw Ian sitting huddled on the floor by the tub, wrapped only in his towel, cold water still dripping irregularly from his hair and down his back. For one wild moment, Ian thought she was seeing something wrong, that she could somehow see underneath his skin and see what was waiting and she was finally, finally starting to understand that she should be afraid - before she shook her head, her expression fading to familiar, fond exasperation. "Oh, hon."

"You should get out of here," Ian said, dully, as Rosa crouched down in front of him. "He could come back."

Rosa shook her head. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. It's over, they shut it down. Those goons ain't gonna come after you ever again -"

"It's not them I'm scared of."

Rosa should be looking worried, not shaking her head again. "All right. Why don't you tell me what you are scared of?"

For the first time, Ian realised the dull chill of water evaporating from his skin.

"You weren't there," he said, curling his fingers in the rough terry of his bath towel and clenching it in a tight fist. "You don't know. You don't know how scared you should be."

Rosa's voice was gentle, even, low, again the voice she used on spooked horses or equally spooked Ians. "Scared of what, Ian?"

Ian looked up and met Rosa's eyes, and Rosa flinched. It was just the briefest flicker of a moment, there and gone again, but a savage smile that didn't feel like it fit quite right still gashed itself across Ian's face.

"I knew everything about you," he said, leaning in close. He didn't think Rosa even realised the way she leaned back, away from him. " _Everything_. All those fears you pretend you don't have. All those little secrets you think would end your career, your friendships, if anyone ever knew. All the lies you've ever told."

He leaned in closer, until he could hear Rosa's breathing speed up, see the way her pupils dilated, until he  _knew_  she was scared, no matter how she tried to hide it. "I knew exactly how to push you to the edge. And -" He reached out one hand, extended his index finger, watched the way Rosa's eyes followed it until he pressed the tip of his finger against the tip of her nose. "How to push you over it."

Rosa swallowed. Ian watched as her throat worked, saw the moment she squared her shoulders and took a steadying breath. "I'm not surprised. We've been best friends how long now?"

"You don't get it!" Ian said, only realising when Rosa winced that he was yelling. "I knew how to hurt people. And I  _wanted_  to! Just to see what would happen!"

"Yep, sounds like you," Rosa said, and despite the way her pupils were still dilated, she sounded unruffled. "Remember when we were thirteen and you Pavlov'd our Health class?"

Ian slammed his fist into the linoleum of the bathroom floor. "Dammit, Rosa -"

"No. You listen to me, Ian Thomas Beale." Rosa sat back, crossing her legs and fixing Ian with an even, steady gaze. "You're right. I wasn't there, I don't know what happened. But I know you, ya goober. You're about as dangerous as a housecat somebody forgot to declaw. Sure, you can draw blood if ya try, if you're hurt or scared,  _like right now,_ but most of the time you're a big ol' softie."

Something flared in Ian’s chest, a detached fury, and he growled, “You have  _no idea_  what I’m capable of.”

“Capable of bein’ a right royal drama queen, I’d say,” Rosa said nonchalantly, getting to her feet. “There’s a pair of pyjamas - well, a pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt - on the toilet tank and a pot of tomato soup on the stove -”

She stopped mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. "Ian, are ya cryin'?"

Ian reached up and found his cheeks wet. "I am! What a stupid design flaw. Who wants to start leaking when they get upset?"

Rosa's smile was far too knowing and much too fond. She held out a hand. "Come on, Mr. No Idea What I'm Capable Of. Get yourself dried off and dressed."

Ian pulled the towel closer around his shoulders. "Fine. You should probably leave - unless you really want to see me naked."

Rosa immediately clapped a hand over her eyes, retreating backwards out of the bathroom blind. "Y'all better be out in ten minutes, or I'm comin' back in."

...

Mira realised she'd uncapped a tube of eyestain (Seafoam Green, long-lasting iris recolouration guaranteed for up to forty-eight hours) and had been staring blankly at it for she wasn't sure how long only when Sun-mi said, "- and since that happened, we've made sure to have any spells or words of power that have to be printed in an article individually cast and then melted down afterwards instead of using the regular movable type. Hey, those things are breeding grounds for germs. If you're not going to use it, would you put the cap back on?"

Mira slammed the cap back on the little tube. "Sorry, I must've zoned out - you were saying something?" She tried to remember what Sun-mi's voice had been saying for the however long she'd been transfixed staring down at the little cylinder in her hand, but it was all muffled and hazy in her memory. "About mass-printing spellwords?"

"Yeah. Do it carefully." Sun-mi was giving Mira a look that fell somewhere between suspicion and concern. Mira looked away, carefully balancing the tube of eyestain on the counter between a velvet lip lacquer and a ball-shaped sponge. "Are you all right? You kind of switched off for a minute there."

"What? No, I -" Mira tried and failed to remember what she'd been thinking about before Sun-mi had broken her out of it. She smiled, the practised one she wore for photos. "I'm fine! So I think with your complexion, I want to try a lavender blush on you to see how -"

"You're not fine at all, usually when I ask you how you feel I get a five-minute dissertation, not a subject change." Sun-mi sighed, leaning forward and resting her chin in one hand. "Look, I know I don't say this to people often and mean it, and I know you hate it when I want to solve your problems while you're just trying to vent, but...do you want to talk?"

Mira opened her mouth to say no.

Instead, what came out was, "I don't know how to stop being so scared."

Sun-mi nodded, straightening up and reaching over to put down the handful of colourful eyeliners she'd been holding. "Okay. That's a start."

...

Ian shuffled into the kitchen barefoot, the bottoms of his pyjama pants trailing against the floor, his left hand rubbing the gooseflesh on his right arm. "You said there was soup."

"There is soup. Grab yourself a bowl, the pot's on the stove." Rosa leaned back against the counter, watching Ian as he reached up into the cupboard for a dish. "I called the pharmacy. They'll have your prescription ready in the morning."

"Holy crap, that's fast. Who'd you have to threaten to make that happen?"

Rosa glanced at her nails, a small, smug smile crossing her face. "Well, what's the use of havin' this name if I can't use it?"

Ian paused with his hand on the ladle. "Thank you."

Rosa shrugged. "You feelin' any better?"

"Uh," Ian said, intelligently, and then shrugged back. "Lemme have some soup and I'll get back to you on that."

"You're still scared, ain't ya?" Rosa said softly, and Ian squeezed the handle of the ladle until his knuckles went white.

"Thaaat's kinda what anxiety's all about!" he tried to joke, but it came out a little closer to a snarl. "But thanks for asking!"

"Ya don't have to bite my head off," Rosa said, sounding annoyed, and the laugh that bubbled out of Ian's throat made her eyebrows rise. "I just wanna help."

"Soup and pyjamas and a prescription refill is more help than I could ask for."

"Yeah, well, it's about all you're gettin', I'm useless at psychotherapy." Rosa shot a smile in Ian's direction, before turning her gaze toward his bowl, nodding when she saw that it was full. "Now go sit your skinny ass down at that table and put some food in ya, ya grump."

...

"...and, and I know I can't keep it from happening again and I can't keep either of us safe and I just feel so useless, and I don't - usually there's something I can  _do_ about bad things, but this -" Mira paused to gesture, and to stuff a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "I'm just so helpless and I hate it. I hate it so much."

Sun-mi gave an understanding nod, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn herself.

"And maybe it'd be better if he'd just talk to me, but he doesn't! I know he's just trying not to put anything else on me but I can see him getting worse and worse and he won't let me help and I don't know what else I can even  _do_."

Sun-mi kept nodding, watching Mira thoughtfully as she munched her way through the handful of popcorn. Finally, she dusted off her hands and asked, "Did you tell him?"

"What?"

"Ian." Sun-mi leaned over to grab another handful of popcorn. "I mean, I'm glad you got to get out how you're feeling, but you should really be telling him this, not me. If he's feeling as bad as you say he is, there's no way he's picked up on it on his own."

Mira grabbed her braid, worrying the star-shaped charms between her fingers as she looked down at the couch cushions. "I don't want to give him another stupid thing to worry about."

Sun-mi sat back, leaning across the armrest of the chair. "Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that what you just said he was doing to you?"

Mira stopped with the charm halfway through a rotation.

...

"I mean, I've never been shy about speakin' my mind -"

"That's an understatement," Ian mumbled, and Rosa gave him a short smack upside his head.

" _Which_  means I may not be pickin' up on all the emotional complexities of the issue, but just to my ears, it sure does sound like you two are both tryin' to keep how you feel from the other so they won't feel worse."

"That's not -" Ian met Rosa's eyes, and sighed. "Fine. There's a possibility that you may not be totally off the mark for once."

"I told you once, I told you a thousand times, Beale, I'm always right." Rosa's triumphant grin quickly vanished as she clapped both hands to her mouth. "Shit, I didn't mean to call ya -"

Ian picked up his spoon and then let it drop back into the bowl with a faint porcelain clatter.

"Sorry," Rosa said.

"It's fine. Just don't - don't keep doing it." 

Rosa nodded, before pulling out the chair at the opposite end of the table with a screech that made Ian's teeth stand on end. "But I stand by what I said. You tell that girl what you told me today in the bathroom, what you're so scared of. And stop treatin' her like she can't handle a little trouble! She might look like a fairy princess, and she absolutely is one, but I'm tellin' ya from experience - she's the scary kind. She's got a backbone. And a bat with nails in."

Ian was sure Rosa wouldn't hear his next words, mumbled into a spoonful of soup. "She wouldn't use it."

"Sorry, hon, what was that?" 

Ian swallowed, then set his spoon down with a quiet tinkle. "I said she wouldn't use it. She'd let me slit her throat before she'd hurt me." He swallowed again, though this time it wasn't due to a mouthful of soup. "She nearly did."

He wasn't expecting Rosa to snort. "All the more reason to let her know what you're scared of, then."

"What? Why?"

"So she knows what you - the  _real_  you - want her to do if it ever happens again." 

Ian took another couple of slurps of soup before he said anything. "That...actually makes sense."

" 'Course it does." Rosa sat back with her arms folded over her chest, kicking both booted feet up to rest on the table. "Didn't I just tell ya I'm always right?"

...

"You're right. You're right, I just -"

"Hey." Sun-mi reached over and grabbed Mira's hand before she could twist her braid clean off. "It doesn't have to be tonight. I invited you over to get your mind off of things and give you a break, and that's exactly what we're gonna do." She gently guided Mira's hand away from her braid. "If you want to. If you want to talk some more -"

Mira shook her head.

"Okay. In that case..." Sun-mi picked up a brush, waving it under Mira's nose so that a few of the bristles tickled her nose. "Somebody mentioned lavender blush?"

The brush was knocked out of her hand when Mira flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Sun-mi's waist. "Thank you," she muttered, into the other girl's oversized scarf.

It was a moment before she felt Sun-mi's arms wrap around her in turn, and a tentative pat on her back. "Hey, I'm pretty sure this is what friends are for."

Mira pulled back just far enough to look Sun-mi in the eye when she asked, "Only pretty sure?"

Sun-mi just shrugged. "Don't quote me."

Mira leaned back in against Sun-mi's chest, giving her midriff a squeeze and getting one back in return. "You are such a nerd."

"Guilty as charged."

...

"You're seriously tucking me into bed?"

Rosa's straight face was strained at the edges, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. "Can't take a chance on you reading under the covers with a flashlight."

"What are you, my mom?" 

"Ya wish." Rosa leaned down, miming like she was about to plant a kiss on Ian's forehead, and blew a large raspberry there instead. "Get some sleep. You'll feel less worse."

"Ugh, I think you got lipstick in my hair." Ian wiped his forehead off, with a joking scowl at Rosa. She stuck out her tongue, before giving him a fond smile.

"Glad you're feelin' a little more like yourself."

Ian managed a smile of his own. "Me too." He pulled the blanket up around his chin, adjusting his pillow. "Rose...thank you. For all of this."

"Oh, shut up, that's just what friends do," Rosa said, but she was smiling. "Don't thank me, ya nerd. Just take care of your basic human needs every once in a while, y'hear?"

"Ugh,  _human_  needs. Didn't you know I'm a being of pure energy with no weaknesses?"

Rosa yanked the covers up over Ian's head. "Go to sleep, Ian."

..

In Mira's hair, the single eye of the star-shaped charm holding her braid together blinked closed.

The demon Alcor settled back, into his home dimension, into the vast emptiness of the Mindscape. He had fought savagely for this space, this sanctuary, where no others would dare to enter. Even the once-great Cipher had stood no chance. This was Alcor's realm, now, his domain, just as it had been for the last thousand years. Just as it would be for the next thousand, and the next, and the thousands upon thousands after that.

His world. Safe. Constant. Solitary.

Dipper Pines pulled the ideas of knees up to his dream of a chest, wrapping fleetingly-envisioned arms around them.


End file.
